When Time Fails (Silverman Saga Book 2) by Marilyn Cohen de Villiers Read Free Book Online

too many more Sandra Laings or Beautys in future. And it’s about bloody time.’
    Annamari was shocked. Thys had never said anything like that before. Not so emphatically. He knew how she felt, especially now, after the terrorist attack and everything. Sometimes she teased him about being a bit of a commi e . He was always going on about those poor kids he used to teach in Thaba ’Nchu, and how he wished he’d had the same equipment and facilities to teach them as he had at BHS, or even now at Driespruitfontein Hoërskool. Other than that, they hardly ever spoke about politics, not at home.
    Thys hadn’t even said much when President FW de Klerk unbanned the ANC and all the other terrorist organisations back in February. She’d gone hysterical when she heard the news on the radio. She’d been horrified. Terrified.But Thys just said FW knew what he was doing. And when they were all watching Nelson Mandela’s release from prison on the big colour TV in the lounge and Stefan Smit called him a fuckin g kaffi r and made some crude remarks about Mandela’s dreadful wife, Winnie, Thys had told Stefan never to use that language again in his house. Stefan walked out and she was pleased because she hated it when Thys invited him to join them. Thys was kind like that. She never told him that Stefan Smit always made her uncomfortable. They needed him. Stefan was virtually running Steynspruit now because Thys obviously couldn’t. But there was no way, no way on this earth, that she’d allow Stefan to move into Christo’s house. Christo had disliked him too, he’d told her so.
    But Thys was right. Stefan Smit shouldn’t have used foul language like that, not even about Mandela, not even if he was a terrorist – not in front of her. Stefan had slammed the door hard on his way out .
    Later, Thys had laughed at her when she expressed her surprise at how smart the tall, greying man looked as he addressed a huge mob of bayin g kaffir s an d commie s in Cape Town.
    ‘What did you think Nelson Mandela would look like?’ Thys asked.
    ‘Not like that. He looks so ordinary. Maybe it’s the suit and tie.’
    While he certainly didn’t look like how she’d pictured the men who’d come into the house and butchered her entire family, Mandela still frightened her. He was a terrorist. Had been a terrorist.Otherwise why would they have kept him in jail for so long? And if FW just handed over everything to th e kaffir s , like Stefan Smit said he would, then none of them would be safe.
     
    ***
     
    ‘What are you going to do about it?’ Thys asked as they got ready for bed.
    ‘About what?’
    ‘Beauty – not being able to read. Why don’t you teach her? You’re a teacher.’
    ‘Very funny. I’m a nursery school teacher. Beauty isn’t a baby. I wouldn’t know where to start.’
    So Thys had given her some of his teaching books; and he brought home some lesson plans and workbooks from the Driespruitfontein primary school; and he even found some old Grade one reading books.
    Beauty’s eyes had nearly popped out of her head when she walked into the kitchen the next day and found a little classroom had been set up at the end of the kitchen table, just for her. You could have lit a candle from the glow in her bright eyes. Annamari and Beauty were so engrossed in their lesson they didn’t notice Petrus standing in the doorway, tears in his eyes.
    Every afternoon, after De Wet came home, he and Beauty sat on th e stoe p stairs and practised their reading together. On weekends, Arno helped Beauty and De Wet with their sums.
    The only person who clearly wasn’t happy with the new arrangement was Stefan. ‘You’re asking for trouble, Mrs van Zyl . Kaffi r kids should know their place. That girl is getting too big for her boots. And you’ve got Arno to think about – he’s getting to the age when boys and girls... you know.’
    ‘No Stefan, I don’t know,’ she said, and continued marking Beauty’s spelling test.
    At the end